Sexual Preference
by Rye-bread
Summary: Is it Kigo? Is it fem-slash? It's NOT a shippy little story with a cute ending. Does it make its point? Is there another story like it? Read and see.


It's me. The Born-Again Bible Thumper. Political and religious conservative.

People who love each other should be together. There's nothing wrong with it. Everyone says so. National leaders. Famous people. Actors. Writers. People at church. The pastor. My daughter.

Make that former pastor, who left when some of the congregation expressed different opinion. And my daughter tells me to shut up.

I've heard it up one side and down the other. And I manage to keep quiet--until people start comparing believers of heterosexual marriage to religious terrorist sabotage bombers.

And it scares and saddens me when same-gender-marriage advocates want to close down charitable religious organizations that feed the poor and find families for orphans--because they cannot in good conscience hire gays, bisexuals, lesbians, and transgenders. The Salvation Army--just to name one group--is one of the most successful charities in history. And I know of people who would rather shut it down than let them hire those who share their core values. Come on. THAT'S intolerance.

I thought about. Over and over. The idea for this fic came to me. I waited a long time to submit this. After all, I'm the Glacially Slow Writer, like it says in my Fanfiction-dot-net profile. A few sentences pop into my head a day. When I think of something, I dig out my cell phone and do a verbal memo. I'm anal about how I phrase things.

This story is probably a one-shot. I can't see how I would continue it.

Will this bother people? I just hope that people will think about the issues. And even rethink. Socrates says that the unexamined life--and the unexamined belief--is not worth living.

Let us dialogue, my readers. In a spirit of reason and moderation. Telling me to shut up and calling me intolerant without the reason why shows me your own narrow view and shallow attitude.

Vaya con Dios.

_**SEXUAL PREFERENCE**_

I'm Kim Possible. I can do anything. So my website says. Except be with the one I love. There are millions in the world who can be with their partner. Why not me? Talk about bias? Talk about intolerance?

I decided to write this in my super secret confidential journal. Maybe I'll share this someday--or publish this in my memoirs--in case there's someone on the entire planet who hasn't heard the whole story.

Society has grown more tolerant--except in Kim's case. Views on marriage are evolving--except for Kim. I don't know how it began. One day I just noticed this attraction. And they say, what's wrong with being with the one you love? I mean, isn't that a good thing? An emotionally fulfilling and satisfying thing, to find your soulmate?

How did it happen? I've gone over and over it in my head. It's like the change in the seasons. When winter turns into spring, the snow melts, the days are getting noticeable longer, and one day you say, hey, it's getting too hot to wear my parka.

Or like when summer turns into fall. The days get shorter, you don't turn the AC on as much, the leaves start to change. Like when a relationship goes sour. God knows I've had enough of those

I wish to God it were Ron. After all we've been through, ever since ABC Pre-K, sleepovers, being in the same homeroom in every grade, doing missions together. He even picked up my heart after it got dropped by Bobby Johnson, and Josh Mankey. He was always there, like our Junior Prom theme song said. That first kiss.

Oops. Correction. Fourth or fifth kiss. There was the time we actually celebrated Christmas up in the Arctic Circle, in the trash capsule from Drakken's space station. And the whole Moodulator sitch. And when he picked up the pieces of my heart when I found that my fav boyfriend was one of Drakken's ANDROIDS.

He loved me. I can see that now. He was my truest and best friend. And I thought what I felt for him was the real love. And that's why I decided to lose our virginity together.

It makes me laugh now when I remember it. And not much does that anymore. I was always the one who initiated things with Ron

But he wasn't the one I fell for. And the one I did--it was so unlikely. I was always tweaked so bad.

It started in my senior year...

My parents have disowned me. All my friends--even Ron--have frozen me--us--out.

We left Colorado. I went to Montana to see if we could stay with Uncle Slim. He turned us away at the gate of his ranch. Nana already sent an e-mail, a text message, and a voicemail: don't bother coming to see her

They say you can't help who you fall in love with. God knows I've tried. Some say you're born with your sexual preference. You can't change it.

I wish I could decide. I wish I could change it. I wouldn't wish this suffering on my worst enemy, either on the person themselves, or the one they love.

The irony is if we both had waited a few years we could've become domestic partners--without the legal hassle--the whole statutory rape issue. Both of us would've been consenting adults.

Of course the social issue--the stigma--our reputations down the toilet--we didn't expect those to be settled in our lifetimes.

But we couldn't wait. We loved each other too much...

But hey, I'm jumping ahead.

For the longest time nothing happened physical between us.

Ron and I saw each other every night and on weekends. I just felt the love--I thought. Everybody was my friend. Even Bonnie Rockwaller, and Justine Flanner. Now THERE'S two opposite ends of the Food Chain.

My Tweaby brothers had jumped several grades and were in high school. I was tolerating them. And they didn't pull as many of their pranks.\

And get this. Shego hired as a teacher for Middleton High School. Is life strange, or what?

Yeah. The whole human race and I were on speaking terms.

And the two of us.

We just hung out together--had lunch together--studied together--walked home together--between classes, before and after school.

It just felt really good to be around each other. I kinda let it out one day.

It was that one night I just sort of blurted out that I liked the time we spent together.

And all of a sudden it was like, "I gotta go! I have things to do!"

And I really beat myself up that night. I thought I had scared the poor kid off.

Next day we met after class. We decided we both felt the same way.

After that we started teasing each other and acting kinda flirty. We would bump each other when we passed in the hall--or jab each other (or tickle) in the ribs.

One night we were sitting together. I think it was in Ron's treehouse. And all of a sudden we were just holding hands.

One of us leaned over and kissed the other on the cheek. I think it was me.

It scared us both. And then we promised each other we wouldn't let it get that far again.

Bur after a few days, the loneliness and the wanting got stronger than the fear.

And then we started giving each other backrubs.

We were both on the varsity swim team. Sometimes we would mess with each other in the pool. We would cheer each other on at the competition.

One time Ron and I were on a mission and we went to church together one Sunday morning and they talked about God loving everyone and accepting them where they were at in their life. And I thought, _Why not? God loves me and my partner._

When I got back, I looked up the other person. We agreed. We both felt the same. So there it was. We didn't do anything wicked or perverted or unrighteous.

I was bummed one day. "No one will understand. All the shit on TV. And the movies. Vile. Stuff that makes me sick. My parents' friends arguing. Awful divorces. Hateful. Abuse. People getting raped--even killed. All I want is for us to be able to love each other--without one eye open for somebody catching us--or spying on us--or even noticing how much time we spend together."

I was crying. We kissed. And it went from warm comforting to sucking face. We groped. Our tongues were in each other's mouths. Before I knew it, we were rolling on the floor and fondling each other.

Like I said, my virginity was already gone. And sex with Ron was always fun. But THIS.

OMG! I didn't know where I was, or what time it was

After sex, Ron would always say, "Booyah, Orgasm-zilla!" And I always pretended. It didn't feel bad, just--well, kind of like soda that lost the fizz.

This was the real thing. We both were sweating and panting. I joked. "Want a cigarette?" And we went at it again.

And from then on, we did it whenever we could.

In my loft at home.

In my car.

At school.

It was Bonnie who found us. She burst in the classroom. "Hey K! Who's been humping you lately?" she said sarcastically. And she stopped and stood there with her mouth open. "Oh my God," she muttered, "I never thought--" And she left the room.

I got dressed and ran after her. "Bon!" I shouted. "Please wait! You've got to hear the whole story!"

"Stay from me, you whore," she said.

"You are such a hypocrite!" I shouted. "You've had every guy on the football team for the last four years lay you!"

"At least I didn't do what I saw you doing just now!" she shouted back. "Stay away from me! I could just barf!"

And the word spread.

We left school together. I drove home. "What am I going to do?" But neither of us had an answer.

I met Daddy at the door.

"I'm sorry, Kimmie-cub, but you can't come in. Your mother won't come home."

"I don't believe you!" I shouldered my way past. "Mom?"

My brother Jim was at the foot of the stairs. He looked like hell. Like he had been crying for a year. He flipped me the bird and ran out the back door. I half expected a bomb to go off under my feet, but I guess when people get too bummed, they just roll over and give up.

I heard Daddy behind me. "I'm sorry, Kimmie-cub. Your mother says she's sleeping at her office. She won't come home until you're moved out."

"Fine!" I yelled. "To hell with you all!" I ran up and packed up a few things, got in my car, and left. In fact, we left together.

I saw Ron in front of his house. "I've just got stop," I said.

I pulled up, turned off the car, and got out. Ron was sitting on the curb, just looking down. I asked real quiet. "Can I join you?"

Ron shrugged and motioned with his head to the spot beside him. "Sure. The curb's public property."

I waited for him to talk.

And he finally did. "Bonnie was going down the hall today, talking her trash talk, and I thought, how hateful can she get? So I called Wade and said 'Find Kim.' That's when he told me the news. I thought I knew what 'sick and wrong' was, but today you showed me what it really means. And I don't mean about what you did or who you did it with. I had to hear it from that shit-tongued little hellion."

Wow. That's the strongest I've ever heard Ron demean somebody.

I bit my lip. Ron was done.

Where's Rufus?" I asked quietly, to break the silence."

"Oh," Ron said, "The usual spot. My pocket."

"Rufus?" I called. I heard a little snarl. It was a sound I had never heard before. Rufus stuck out his head and bared his teeth. "Yuck!" he said.

"I wouldn't touch him," Ron said. "He's been this way since he heard the news. He'll bite. He bit me. And he bit up the Ronnunicator."

I heard the front door to his house open behind us. And Mrs. Stoppable started ranting. "Ronald Adrian Stoppable! What are you doing with that little tart?

Ron didn't even look up. He shouted back. "Stop hassling us, Mom, or I swear to God, I'll leave with Kim!"

I looked back over my shoulder. She glared at us and slammed the door.

"Izzat true?" I asked. "Would you really blow town with us? Are you and I still that close?"

And Ron looked up. His stare went right through me. It hurt, like a needle going through my chest and coming out my back.

"Y'know, Kim? We've always shared everything--and I mean everything. I knew when your first period was. You knew when I was having wet dreams about every babe in school--even you. We laughed about it. I swear to God--if you had come to me with this, I really think I would've been okay with it."

And that's going to hurt more than any other rejection--for the rest of my life.

I noticed," I said, "You haven't called me 'K.P.' "

"I don't think I'll ever use that name again."

I kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Ron. I always will." I was crying when I got up and got back in the car. I think he was too. But I checked it out in the rear view mirror. He didn't look up as I drove away. Just huddled with his head in his arms.

We drove up to Montana. But Uncle Slim met us at the gate of the ranch.

"Yer pa called," he said, in that country western twang. "I'da seen y'all anyway on my spy satellite. Little missy, you can just git back in that car and head back in the direction where y'all came from."

God, I'm gonna miss hearing that voice.

"I want to talk to Joss," I said.

"Joss holed up in her room as soon as she heard about you. Went plumb loco. She tore every picture she had of you to shreds. Her mission suit too. If you young'ns was mine, I'd tan both your hides."

I thought about heading for Florida. I got a text message from Nana--and an e-mail--and a voicemail..

I had to hear about this on the preview for one of those detestable celebrity gossip shows. I was all set to do something I might done before your father was born, like getting your young man Mr. Load to jam the network signal. I even though about abducting the producer of that excuse for a news documentary and making him recant on home video. Then I could give it to Mr. Load to upload on the Internet. I would have gladly gone to jail. But Mr. Load told me the truth. I called your parents. Your brother Jim took the call. Your mother has moved out. Your father wouldn't talk me for shame. I don't know how I'll ever sleep again. I'm wondering if it was something I did.

The two of you: I can't begin to say how horrible I feel. I wish I was already in my grave.

Don't come, either of you. In fact, they're watching for you at the border through the roadside cameras on the major highways; and the State Police are monitoring the roads that don't have them. And that's the last thing I'm ever going to do for you. I'm rewriting my will.

Not your Nana.

I tried Wade on the Kimmunicator several times. Nothing. The last time, his mother answered.

"Miss Kim," she said sternly. "My little boy is all but catatonic. He won't talk or eat. I had to have him hospitalized. The doctor has put him on suicide watch. You remember his smile? His laugh? We'll never see it again. And I have **you** to thank for that!" And the screen went dark.

I tried Dr. Director. Some of the people I've helped. The people I used to say "Oh, it was no big" to. Nothing.

And the one who sympathized with me in all this? That's the strange part. It was Shego.

"Wait a minute," you're saying. "I thought you and Shego were the ones who hooked up."

As if. Please.

You think I'm talking about Shego. Hell, no. I'm still straight. I'm talking about me and Tim--yes, my brother. I'm talking the Big "I"--incest.

There's a state warrant in Colorado for statutory rape and contributing to the delinquency of a minor. There's a federal warrant for taking a minor across state line for immoral purposes.

I hear commentary on the radio while we're on the road. The right-wingers? What I expected. "All the good" I ever accomplished "has been undone." I need to "get right with God." But the ones who talk about tolerance and the "right of people to love each other"? They're saying I set the cause back a generation. The radical lesbians accuse me of "denying my real nature".

What hypocrisy. What crap.

What do I want from gay and the lesbian community? The bisexual and transgender community? The same thing they want from the hetero community. Give me at least the credit--and self respect--for having the brains enough to know what my sexual preference is. Don't try to impose it on me. I don't want it any more than they want somebody else's imposed on them. In a way, I wish I were gay, or lesbian, or bisexual, or wanting lots of partners. That would at least have some degree of social acceptance. No. The person I love, who I want to be with, changes the whole issue. It causes me to be categorized.

And Shego--who's tried to kill me--the closest thing I have to an evil twin-Shego's the one in my corner.

"Truth or dare, Princess. Just between you and me, I almost did it with my brother, Hego. Yeah--the bicep god himself. The hero who's so high on the pedestal, he's beyond the reach of corruption--except what's already INSIDE him. That's one of the reasons I left Team Go. Listen, Princess, I know what you're in for. You're not gonna have a friend in the world. But if you ever need a place to crash, or if you're ever hungry, my door is always open. You know where to find me."

And I told her, "Thanks, but I think Tim and I might start a spin-off from Team Possible. But it that doesn't work--."

She looked at me like I had two heads. "Oh, Kimmie," she said, "You're still not getting it, are you?. For you, missions are done."

Yeah. Guess I was still starry-eyed.

She went on. "There are some corners of the world where they don't care for a girl friggin' her brother. But then there are places in the world where you won't be able to go because the religious whack jobs are going to want to hang you, or behead you, or burn you at the stake."

That was food for thought.

And she renewed her offer. "But if things ever get too hard, Kimmie, there's someone who's going to take you in--you and whoever you're with--no strings attached. You have my word."

Sometimes I've dyed my hair. And I'm wearing brown colored contacts. It turns out that there's an upside to all the ninja training. Tim and I are pretty safe from anyone who tries to roll us.

Turns out there's a downside, too. Something Shego warned us about.

It's how to live. Food, clothing, shelter. Money.

Shego gave me some names--contacts.

There are some job offers from espionage groups, criminal syndicates, black ops organizations. I can be a mercenary--a soldier-of fortune--an agent for hire. And I know how good I am. I know what I would be worth. I could live like Lara Croft, Paris Hilton, and Donald Trump all rolled into one. But--strange as it sounds--inside, I'm still the grown-up Little Pixie who wants to save the world. There's stuff I'll never do--even if it's to be a covert operative for some group like GJ or the CIA, offing people like Big Daddy Brotherson or the Islam-fascist radical--what's-his-name.

But then there's little stuff. Petty theft to eat. Shoplifting. It's ironic. This ninja training of mine. I could probably forage for the rest of my life. But it blows.

Speaking of forage--I almost think we could do the survivalist thing. Build a cabin, plant a garden, hunt and fish some place in the world.

But Shego's last advice--it shook me up the most. Maybe I should have listened--and gone to Yamanuchi--or gone on a suicide mission. Yeah, the world would've remembered a hero--and I wouldn't be living in this torment.

What Shego said. "One last thing, Princess. Some free advice. The thing you have with the kid--the thing that you want to give up your fam--your friends--your rep--your future--everything--for. It's so strong you think it'll last forever. Listen to your Auntie Shego. It usually doesn't. It probably won't."

I nodded and said to myself that Tim and I were different.

But Tim is staring at other girls when we stop to eat at a real restaurant--or when we drive past them walking. He doesn't look me in the eye. We don't talk. It's been about a week since we--well--you know.

And if we split--. There's that double standard. He's the underage. He'll get off free as a bird. He might even have a life with my folks to go back to. Me, I'm marked. This red hair for a beacon and the name on the sexual offender list for the official I.D. Kim Perv-able.

So there it is. The future is a question mark. Big and twisted.

I have to take meds to get to sleep now. There are nights I have to do some hard talking to myself to persuade myself not to take the entire bottle.

Tim disappears for days at a time. And when he shows up, it's like what we used to have never happened. The only thing he'll take from me is whatever munchies I have left over.

There's always Shego. She does some cat burglary--jewelry, paintings, antiques. High ticket items. Stuff the owner hardly misses and the insurance company pays for without blinking. I suppose I could do a little of that without compromising my principles.

Listen to me. Like I can talk with a straight face about principles.

If anybody comes across this and wants to ask what I would've done different. Damn if I know. If anybody feels sorry for me--don't bother. I'm a big girl.

And if anyone wants to preach at me--go to hell.


End file.
